Cottageverse
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Mr and Mrs Carson move into a cottage at Downton, but will their post-retirement marriage be bliss?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Retirement Benefits

Robert threw down his pen, unable to concentrate. "Do you think he'll like it?" he asked Cora, fretful. "I do want him to be happy."

"He deserves it for putting up with us all these years," Cora drawled.

Robert stood and began pacing. "It's the best cottage. It's the closest to town. Lovely view."

"Mrs Mason seems impressed with its kitchen."

"There's a lovely garden. I always imagine Carson gardening for some reason," Robert murmured, looking out the window at Downton's perfectly manicured grounds.

Cora squinted at the stitches she was sewing into the baby's christening gown before resignedly donning her new spectacles. "Poor Carson. I hope he can cope with retirement."

"Yes. We'll need to find him some activities that will keep him busy. Perhaps we can ask Mrs Hughes for suggestions. She knows him better than anyone. He even took her along today, to view the cottage."

"A second opinion is always prudent," Cora commented after a moment's hesitation.

Robert turned to his wife, not missing the slight falter in her voice. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Cora? What?"

She was able to avoid Robert's probing when the door of the study opened after a brief knock and the subjects of their musings, Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes, entered.

"Carson! How did you find the cottage?"

"It's a very generous offer, my Lord," Carson replied in his usual diplomatic way.

"What does that mean, Carson?" Cora asked, stretching her head back to look up at the lofty butler.

"I think Mr Carson is feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment," Mrs Hughes interrupted when Carson remained mute.

Cora put aside her sewing. "I can understand that," Cora said in a soft tone. "Retirement is a big step."

"Do you want to look at one of the other vacant cottages?" Robert asked.

"No, no. It seems very adequate," Carson replied vaguely.

Robert frowned, still sensing there was something Carson wanted to add about the accommodation he was being offered. "You'll be comfortable there?" he asked slowly. "Content to live there?"

"I believe so, my Lord." Carson cleared his throat, and turned to Mrs Hughes. "You do think you'll be able to live there, don't you, Mrs Hughes?"

Robert and Cora blinked from their butler to their housekeeper and back again.

"Carson, what are you talking about?" Robert finally asked. "This is to be your cottage, old boy!"

Mrs Hughes's gaze settled on the butler. After a long tense moment of silence, she eventually turned back to her employers.

"I apologise, Lord and Lady Grantham, I do hate to disturb the household in such a way, but it seems in addition to filling the position of butler, you will need to find a new housekeeper directly."

The breath Carson had been holding came out in an audible rush.

In the settee, Cora giggled.

Robert stared at all three of them before the penny dropped.

"Oh!" he cried, his face flushing. "Yes, well, alright then," he stammered.

Then, he began to laugh heartily. "I'm just wondering," he hiccupped between guffaws, "who will break this news to my mother?"


	2. Chapter 2

_I decided to continue with this universe in ficlet/300 word drabbles. To give it the sense of dramatic. :)_

_Title: Cottage Garden Regrets_

Charles was once again in the garden when Elsie turned the corner of the pathway that led to their cottage.

He politely stopped working as she approached.

She was wearing a new blue dress, one he'd never seen before. It had a row of yellow buttons running down the front to its fashionably dropped waist, making it more feminine than she was used to. With its low collar, three-quarter length sleeves, and mid-calf hem, it also definitely showed off more bare skin than she was used to.

She held her breath, waiting for him to comment on it.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "Dinner at five?"

"Yes," she murmured, reaching up to remove her hat, shaking her riot of unruly curls out. She had no inclination to keep her thick hair under as much control as she once did. Retirement should have some benefits.

Charles stood awkwardly, gripping the handle of his shovel as he glanced back over his shoulder, apparently keen to return to his work.

"I received a letter from my sister. I suppose I might go in and read it," she murmured eventually when he never extended an invitation to view his progress in the garden.

Her sister had announced she would be visiting next month. Morag assumed she could stay at the cottage.

She and Charles had not yet discussed how they were going to solve the problem of accommodating another person, considering their current - separate - sleeping arrangements.

He cleared his throat again. "I'll finish up. I don't want to be late for dinner."

She stared at his broad back for a long moment before she headed inside.

She no longer felt like Mrs Hughes, Head Housekeeper of Downton.

Unfortunately for her, after ten months of retirement and marriage, Charles still acted exactly like a butler.


	3. Chapter 3

_Title: A Beautiful View_

Years of living in attics and dungeon-like kitchens had taken their toll.

Since they'd retired, they'd both become determined to throw off the shackles of a servant's living and working environments.

Charles spent as much time as he could outside; if not gardening, bird watching. Elsie smiled now, thinking about the book he kept to record his sightings. His new ledger, he jokingly called it.

She would sketch the birds for him some days, but she refused to join him working in the garden. It reminded her too much of her childhood on her family's farm.

She went for long walks. The grounds of Downton were quite beautiful, and she'd never had time previously to truly explore their splendour.

Her other new eccentricity was that when she was inside during the day, doing chores or not, she would look out at the freedom of the open air. She kept all the curtains drawn back, ensuring the sky, whether it be a dull grey or a clear blue, was always visible.

This habit meant she could quite often observe Charles as he bent over to dig or tug at weeds; just as she was now.

It was unseasonably warm today, and he'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. She unashamedly enjoyed the way the muscles of his arms bunched and tautened as he moved.

She'd always admired his grace and refinement. Therefore, her reaction to his oft unkempt appearance after gardening-the way his shirt stuck to his damp chest, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead, the way sweat dripped down from his chin-was most unexpected, and undignified, on her part.

And it was most unseemly that the times she was admiring his physical attributes were the times she had absolutely no regrets about their marriage.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to everyone for being so welcoming here. I still haven't had a chance to read anything! Blame the Olympics!  
_

_Title: Turning Point_

Elsie stood by the window, her eyes settled on Charles. He had a towel draped across one shoulder, and her pulse raced as he patted at the sweat on his thick neck with it.

She was now well aware of her reaction to her husband.

If only he was the least bit attracted to her in return.

He didn't mention her new clothes or the way her hair had grown. She never turned to see his gaze lingering on her backside or her chest like she thought a man should if he was interested in a woman in that way.

Charles's belongings had been already set out in the main bedroom when Elsie had moved in. Lord Grantham had sent over a double bed _"A man your size and your age is entitled to a few benefits, wouldn't one say?"_

Elsie's small suitcase had been delivered to the cottage's second bedroom. There she found a single bed, a set of drawers and a blanket box.

She and Charles had never spoken about their bedroom arrangements before or after they married. They would have to speak about them before her sister arrived.

Distractingly, Charles tugged at the collar of his soiled shirt, giving her a glimpse of a still-white singlet beneath.

She would be sixty next month, and Charles was almost five years older.

At their age, was sex even possible?

Not that sex was her ultimate goal. What she craved above all else was merely human contact. She'd had so little in her life. She wanted to simply share his bed.

Soon it would be winter again. Her bones would chill and the ache of rheumatism would set in. She longed for someone to keep her warm, to hold her tight.

She looked away. It was all out of reach.


	5. Chapter 5

_Title: Error in Judgement_

Charles watched as Elsie drew a letter from her pocket. He presumed it was the one from her sister.

His greatest fear was that after Morag's visit, Elsie would return to Lancashire with her.

He decided to lead the conversation away from the letter and into more neutral territory. He talked about the crisp chill in the newly-arrived autumn air; the floral scent still hovering, however; and his intent to build a bird bath.

Elsie's replies were a series of short hums.

He frowned worriedly; although he had to concede that he and Elsie having a stilted conversation was not an uncommon scenario of late. He'd have to be rather dispassionate not to notice the recent shift in their relationship.

He often wished they could return to how they acted around each other before, or in the very early days of, their marriage, but he realised that was near impossible.

Whereas he had never been so happy with his life, evidently, she was not so.

At the very least she was bored with his company. He would often observe her staring out the window, her need to escape the confines of their union quite apparent. Some nights, after their supper, she was not even content to read or sew. Instead she would fidget and shuffle in her seat until she bid him goodnight, rushing away to her small bedroom.

Quite often he tuned in the radio Lord Grantham had gifted him last birthday, just to stop himself from falling to his knees and begging her to tell him what he could do differently.

Once he'd heard Beryl Patmore mentioning the woman's change, and he'd naively hoped that this could be Elsie's problem.

On the other hand, he knew exactly what his problem was: he'd fallen in love with his wife.


	6. Chapter 6

_Title: Indiscretion_

Elsie wasn't looking forward to her sister's visit.

She'd managed to escape her family some 44 years ago. Sweet Joe had been a casualty in her haste to get away from them and change her life.

She looked down at the marcasite brooch she wore just above her left breast. Charles had given it to her as a wedding gift.

She fingered the swirl of silver thoughtfully. Morag had taken one look at the brooch at the wedding dinner and announced it as fool's gold, her tone insinuating that their nuptials were just as foolish.

In some ways Morag was correct.

Charles hadn't even truly proposed. He'd been ready to retire, and things had moved from viewing cottages together, to exchanging vows and rings in the Downton chapel with alarming speed.

They hadn't honeymooned. No one had even suggested it, actually.

Most people thought they were marrying for companionship, or at the most, friendship. No one believed they would be living as man and wife in the traditional sense.

And Charles had never suggested they should either.

Theirs had been a marriage of convenience for her husband, she often thought. There were few other candidates who were age and class appropriate in the district.

Elsie folded Morag's letter up carefully.

"She's still coming then," she murmured to Charles.

He grunted out a response before opening up his bird ledger.

She stared across at his bent head as he began to write.

She quickly stood, deciding she should retire before she gave into the sudden urge she had to reach out, sweep back that stray lock of hair which had fallen across his forehead, and curl it around her finger. Undoubtedly, he wouldn't welcome such a move.

In fact, as she bid him goodnight, he never even glanced in her direction.


	7. Chapter 7

_Title: Aching Heart_

Charles stared at the firmly closed bedroom door. The bedroom she'd chosen the day their furniture and suitcases were delivered from the main house.

He'd realised then, Elsie had the power to break his heart a million times over.

He hadn't always been a virtuous man.

There was, apparently, something seductive about a man on stage, and he'd taken advantage of that appeal on many an occasion. Later, he'd gone into service, and there he'd found a succession of maids just as eager to show their charms to a footman.

Once a maid had claimed he hadn't been as careful as he should. He'd dismissed the fact that he hadn't loved her; love wasn't important when a child was involved, he'd reckoned.

He'd found the courage to propose, only to find her in bed with the valet, a much more important position, she'd told him. He'd remained at the house only long enough to assure himself there was no child.

He hadn't been lying when he'd told Elsie once that he knew Ethel's type.

At Downton, he hadn't needed a wife, or a whore, to share his bed. He'd been fulfilled in another, more honourable, way. And he'd become a father in another way.

But the arrival of the new housekeeper some fifteen years ago brought him out of this self-imposed celibacy. He started thinking about the feel of a woman again. More specifically, one woman: a redhead with a sharp tongue. He touched himself; really it was the only alternative he could contemplate. She wasn't some silly maid.

Only tonight, the urge to just pick her up and carry her to his bed was so strong he couldn't even look at her.

He'd rather his heart broken a million times over than to be responsible for breaking hers once.


	8. Chapter 8

_I wasn't going to post another part today, but it appears my weekend is going to be crazy busy. Thanks for all the reviews. Hope you all keep enjoying the future parts. :)_

_Title: Masquerade Ball_

__They entered the house through the front door, as Lord Grantham had requested on the invitation. Elsie lowered her chin and bit down on her lip as the new footman became flustered, obviously in awe of the well-known and respected ex-butler.

Charles took her elbow and leant over to whisper conspiratorially in her ear as they followed the young lad through to the ballroom: "He wouldn't act like that if he saw me in the garden."

She flushed, trying not to think about the inappropriate thoughts she so often had when she watched him in the garden.

They joined the end of the receiving line and were welcomed by the members of the Crawley family in attendance tonight. Then, they rounded the room together, greeting past and present servants, some more warmly than others.

Disconcertingly, during all this, Charles never removed his hand from her arm.

Was it her imagination or did some of the guests' eyes drift down to take in that fact too?

She craned her neck to study his expression. It was, as he'd practised for many years, impassive. She sniffed irritably. He was one of _those_ men. Masterful and possessive in public, but behind closed doors, he ignored all his spousal responsibilities.

With an audible sigh she admitted silently to herself that she was being entirely fair. But she would also admit she was finding frustration a difficult emotion to deal with.

Upon hearing her sigh, Charles's hand only tightened and she felt something else other than mere frustration. It wasn't irritation at his display of public ownership either.

She felt... It felt...so right.

"Mrs Carson, may I have this dance?"

She looked up. Lord Grantham was holding his hand out expectantly.

Slowly, she felt Charles's hand drop away. Just as she'd feared it would.


	9. Chapter 9

_Title: Dancing to Distraction_

Charles sipped on a glass of sherry and watched Elsie on the dancefloor.

After Lord Grantham, she'd danced with Matthew Crawley, Mr Molesley, Sir Anthony Strallan and now she was laughing prettily at something her new partner, Dr Clarkson, was saying.

Before he could think any further, Charles found himself tossing his drink aside, striding onto the dancefloor, and tapping Clarkson on the shoulder.

Then, she was in his arms.

Her ample curves moulded perfectly against his bulk. Her hair - that ridiculous hat that hid her new thick waves left at the door - tickled his chin. One of her soft hands disappeared almost completely in his large paw, the other clung to his shoulder.

He breathed deeply. Her scent was a mixture of lavender and sunlight soap.

He pulled her closer. This was the most intimate they'd been since their wedding day, where a couple of chaste kisses were exchanged.

He longed to kiss her now. Perhaps just a quick peck on the crown of her head, or along one of her high cheek bones, or just below an ear... Her neck was tempting, but much too risque in such mixed company as this. Then again, she could hardly make a fuss about a kiss in such a public forum, so it could work out well.

"This is nice."

He straightened, clearing his throat before he spoke: "It is."

"Seeing everyone again. We haven't left the cottage much lately. I mean, I see everyone at church, but it's not the same. Those still in service are rushing back to either start their work again or enjoy the rest of their few hours off."

He frowned.

"Thank goodness for Beryl or I'd be going completely 'round the bend," she added.

He stepped back. Her hands fell away. The song was over.


	10. Chapter 10

_Title: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered_

Elsie stoked the woodstove, placing the kettle onto the heat before moving to stare out at the moonlit garden.

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't get Charles's uncharacteristic behaviour out of her head.

She flushed now, thinking about their dance. He'd held her close. She hadn't protested at all. The heat from his fingers had spread through her limbs, making them languid and weak to such an extent that she couldn't stop herself from relaxing into his embrace. She'd felt as fragile as a leaf in autumn, leaning against his solid strength.

When the song had finished, she'd quickly stepped back. She'd needed to clear her head.

Luckily, he'd immediately gone in search of Mr Mason, claiming he wanted to discuss something about planting with the farmer. In turn, she'd sought out Beryl, but even her friend's amusing company couldn't stop her anxiety every time she glanced in his direction.

When, at last, they'd said their farewells, Charles had once again taken a firm hold of her arm to guide her home to the cottage.

He was never usually so expressive.

"Elsie?"

She spun around, clutching the lapels of her dressing gown. Charles stood in the kitchen doorway.

"Are you ill?"

"No, just restless," she softly admitted. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she offered automatically.

He hesitated for just a moment before giving her a slight nod.

Once she'd made their tea and sat, she held her breath. They were alone again. It was the middle of the night. What now, she wondered.

To her surprise, it was Charles who started the conversation. The subject turned out to be a surprise also. In fact, it was so unexpected, she had no idea how to respond.

"I think it's time you moved into the same bedroom as me," he announced.


	11. Chapter 11

_Title: Thief in the Night_

Charles wished his tea was something a little stronger.

He'd heard Elsie's quiet footsteps going past his door about a half an hour ago and wrestled with the decision of checking on her. Being with Elsie in the middle of the night, when his defences were low, was not the best idea. He was struggling to keep her at arm's length, and they had both been on edge when they'd returned from the party; his fault entirely.

However, he couldn't stay in bed if she was truly unwell and in need of assistance.

When assured that wasn't the case, he'd sat down at the table, ready to discuss something that would perhaps make them a little tired. He hadn't meant to say anything about their sleeping arrangements.

They'd married because they were growing old, they were tired, and being alone in their twilight years was not an appealing prospect. They'd had each other during the last fifteen years of their working life, and being together in retirement seemed the natural course they should take.

Falling in love was not part of the deal.

He should reassure her that he knew sleeping together wasn't part of the deal either.

"Morag arrives in five days time. It would seem we have to share a bedroom for the duration of her visit. You will need to wash and dry the sheets on your bed; move your things into the other bedroom. Leaving this to the last minute wouldn't be advised."

He tried to use his most professional tone as he spoke, although secretly he knew he was waffling on embarrassingly.

He took a deep steadying breath, and finally found the courage to look back across the table at Elsie.

"Yes," she murmured. "I'll move over my things first thing in the morning."


	12. Chapter 12

_Title: Almost Home_

By mid-afternoon, Elise was done. She and Charles were now sharing a bedroom.

Her hat boxes were neatly stacked on top of the wardrobe. Her hairbrush, clips and meagre amount of jewellery jostled for position with a man's comb and a straight razor on the dresser. The few sentimental trinkets she'd collected over the years cluttered up a small table sitting under the window. A crocheted rug, one patterned with lilac and yellow hues, now covered the bed. She'd even taken the time to nail some feminine pictures onto the wall.

She wondered how Charles would view all the changes.

From the day they'd moved in, he'd taken charge of the garden and exterior of the cottage, leaving her to add any touches she wanted inside. A chore she'd relished. It was exhilarating; not having to check with anyone when she made any decorating decisions.

And she was secretly thrilled with the results. Their small cottage might not have a grand ballroom or staircase, but she'd turned it into a home.

Her first ever home, she realised now. Previously, she'd lived in houses - not the same thing at all.

But was it_ their _home?

She admitted she'd neglected this particular room all along. Every time she'd entered the room, she'd been distracted by the sheer size of its bed.

The huge double mattress was almost three times larger than the tiny cot she'd been sleeping on since she'd returned to Downton fifteen years ago. Realistically, she and Charles should be able to comfortably sleep together without any part of them touching.

She shook her head with irritation and stepped across to the window. She drew back the curtain and searched the garden for Charles.

A small scream fell from her lips when she located him, lying motionless on the ground_._

_A/N: I know, I'm being plain mean now. Hopefully you'll all forgive me one day. :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Unfortunately you've nearly caught up with what I've written, so make the most of these regular postings!_

_Title: Paradise Lost_

"Charles!"

Charles pivoted his head at his name being called out in such an urgent manner.

"What is it?"

He scrambled to his feet, ungracefully, he would rue later.

Elsie's progress along the path came to a complete halt. Her shoulders sagged, and he thought for one terrifying moment that she was going to faint.

"Elsie!" His tone was urgent now. He quickly bustled to her side. "What is it?" he repeated, anxiously taking in her pale face and laboured breathing.

Suddenly her hand whipped out and she slapped his chest. "What sort of man lies around scaring his wife half to death."

His thick eyebrows rose.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've had a heart attack."

His chest puffed out. "I did not have a heart attack."

Ignoring his posturing, she went on: "Whatever do you think you were doing on the ground, Charles Carson?"

"Bird watching."

He watched the emotions dance across her face at his short reply. He'd obviously given her quite a scare.

Very slowly, as if it was she who was the bird ready to flutter away at any moment, he moved to stand behind her. His palms covered her hips and he swivelled her body until she was facing the tree branch where the birds were nesting and feeding.

"There," he murmured close to her ear.

"Yes."

The heart that she'd questioned before beat faster than he thought possible when she whispered that one small word.

Next, he felt her relax and lean fully against him. He brushed her hip bones with his thumbs, unable, and unwilling, to stop his mind from wandering to how she would react if he brushed her nipples in the same way.

"Hello!"

Reluctantly, he let his hands fall away and stepped back.

They were no longer alone.


	14. Chapter 14

_Title: First Time Jitters_

Elsie was unable to stop herself from thinking of the silk nightgowns with the lace trims Lady Grantham had ordered for each of her daughters' trousseaux. There'd also been satin corsets decorated with ribbon, garter belts with dainty yellow flowers inlaid along their gathered edges, and robes of velvet and chiffon.

In contrast, Elsie was currently donning a plain cotton nightgown for her, much belated, first night in her husband's bed.

Her appearance had hardly progressed from the dowdy old maid she'd been twelve months ago.

She assumed she wouldn't need to act the blushing bride; just as Charles wouldn't suddenly be swept away with unbridled passion.

Although, she would concede, he'd displayed a small level of anxiety this evening. He'd been uncharacteristically vague when she'd brought up this afternoon's visit by Lord Grantham.

"When he left, he said if you change your mind about his offer to let him know. What offer?" she'd asked.

Charles had moved to his wireless as she'd completed her question; his only reply becoming a distracted hum as he tuned in the radio.

Letting the subject drop, she'd returned to the activity which had occupied _her_ since dinner: checking the time on the clock sitting upon the mantlepiece. Eventually, its hands spun to a number too great, and she had little choice but to announce she was retiring for the night.

"I'll give you a moment," Charles had murmured politely.

She slipped beneath the covers now, believing she'd need a lot longer than a moment to ever fall asleep.

The last time she'd shared a bed she'd been in her teens, and it had been with the other chambermaid of the house. She hadn't been the least bit attracted to that wee lass.

She wished she could say the same thing about Charles Carson.


	15. Chapter 15

_Getting there, guys!  
_

_Title: Dreams at Dawn_

Charles woke early. Elsie lay beside him, flat on her back.

He chuckled quietly. She'd be so outraged to know she was snoring. Perhaps he should tell her later, just to get a reaction.

Yesterday, when she'd directed a slap to his chest, was the most spirited he'd seen her in months. Before they were married he'd lost count of how many times he'd been tempted to douse her Scottish fire by taking her in his arms. Or how many times he'd thought about smoothing the sharpness of her tongue with a kiss. Or how many times he'd wanted her in this very position in his bed.

He cursed the night's warmth for giving him no excuse to gather her close. There was one advantage; unnoticed by Elsie, the ties of her nightgown had almost worked their way loose.

He remembered when they'd first met; her much thinner body, her pert breasts. Age had brought this new plumpness, settling so beautifully around her chest...

He could run his finger along the creamy flesh straining to fully be free from the nightgown's confines. He could lean down and swirl his tongue along the swell accentuated by the angle she was lying. He could grab a fistful of material and drag it up until her lower body was bare and...

He shook his head. He could do no such thing.

However, he couldn't find the strength to completely leave her be. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he draped one arm around her and pulled her close, dismissing the worries about the mild weather.

She tensed for just a moment before he felt her relax and rest heavily against him.

He placed his head closer to hers, letting the cadence of her heavy breathing lull him back into a deep slumber.


	16. Chapter 16

_Title: The Morning After_

Elsie smoothed out the sheets with the back of her hand.

Last night, she'd been lying on her side, as close to the edge of the bed as possible, with her eyes squeezed shut, when the mattress had dipped, signalling she was no longer alone.

She'd shivered slightly, trying desperately to accustom herself to the unfamiliarity of the situation. The muted shadows of the room, the soft noises Charles was making, the rolling movement of the mattress each time he adjusted his position upon it...

"Elsie?"

She felt a touch on her shoulder. Seemingly without conscious thought on her part, she sought him out, falling back until she lay flat.

"Elsie, I would never hurt you."

"I know," she whispered. Not deliberately, she knew. Never for a moment would she think that.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Only in a different way, she silently added. Her love was romantic. Not at all like one shared between siblings or just friends.

In fact, she was almost afraid of her love. It could sweep her along until she thought of little else, if she allowed it. Charles, with his sensible nature, would never imagine such a love.

However, it was wrong to dismiss his feelings just because hers were so strong. He loved her, trusted her. He would never have married her and let her into his life as he had unless it was true.

Her hand reached across and found his. Their fingers twined together and soon after she fell into a sound sleep. She only woke once, discovering Charles's arm wrapped snugly around her waist, its heavy weight comfortable.

In the dark, it had all seemed so simple and natural.

But now, the sun was up, and the space next to her was disappointingly cool to the touch.


	17. Chapter 17

_Well, this is it, guys! No, not the end of cottageverse, but the end of what I've written thus far and therefore, your updates aren't going to be as fast and furious! I've got a few other things to post yet though, so hopefully you'll enjoy some of them in the meantime. Thanks as always for your reviews, and I'll make a point to pm everyone registered with individual thanks soon. Special thanks to the guests I can't pm! _

_Title: As Familiar as Yesterday_

Upon waking, Charles had not lingered in their bed, opting to rise early before Elsie noticed his morning arousal.

Despite the harmony they'd so easily achieved during the night, he'd still assumed that any exchanges with her during the day would be uncomfortable, but surprisingly, and hearteningly, they weren't. They'd talked while sharing their meals and carrying out their various chores with a greater sense of companionship and familiarity than they'd displayed since they'd taken their vows.

He wondered if, by sleeping together, they'd both crossed some invisible line and were free to relax in one another's company again.

For this, their second night together in the same bed, they'd been confident enough to retire at the same time and, as the weather had changed and it was a less than mild night, they had dispensed with any pretense of keeping their distance once beneath the covers.

"Good night, Elsie."

As he spoke, his breath displaced one of her curls and she reached up to push it back from where it was tickling her cheek. At the same moment, he reached down to tidy the stray ringlet. Their fingers met.

He quickly pulled his hand back, determinedly ignoring the surge of desire tingling through his body.

"I really should put a sleeping cap on."

"Don't you dare," he barked, his tone rougher than he'd anticipated.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, that uncertain frown marring her features once more.

He softened his features. "I like it," he said sincerely, tucking another dark red strand behind her ear.

She turned away with a smile. Then, she inched her backside temptingly towards him. In turn, he wrapped his arm around her middle and dragged her closer.

"Good night, Charles," she whispered.

"Good night," he said again, before closing his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

_So, after my grand announcement of having to wait for future chapters yesterday, I sat down and wrote a new one straight away! LOL! Hopefully you won't complain! :)_

_Title: Eve's Apple_

As she watched her husband sleep quietly beside her on this their third night together, Elsie concluded she was a decidedly selfish person.

Gone at last was the aloof man she'd been living with. She'd even found the courage to tease him on more than one occasion today. He'd reacted with quiet chuckles and, once, he'd gently squeezed her hand. After lunch, he'd returned to the garden, but not before he'd thanked her for their meal with a soft kiss to the cheek.

Yes, she had her old Charles back. And that, plus this new intimacy, should be enough. Only it wasn't...

She yearned to touch that wayward piece of hair again curling on his forehead; the cleft in his chin; the often stern line of his lips.

She wanted to stroke her finger along the arm which was carelessly flung around her.

If she bent her knee, his hand, which was currently placed loosely upon her thigh, would drop between her legs. If she arched her back, his lips would nestle against the bare skin of her neck. And, if she twisted her upper body just slightly, he would be breathing in her nipple.

"Elsie?"

She opened her mouth, but then clamped it shut again. Silence seemed the best direction. There was no satisfactory way to explain away her outrageous thoughts.

Slowly, he reached out and cradled her face with his large hands.

"Elsie," he repeated her name, making it sound like an endearment.

She stared up at him, mesmerised, as he deliberately lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was brief and chaste, as all their previous kisses had been. Yet she knew her face was flushed and her breathing erratic when he pulled back.

"Elsie?"

She couldn't be sure what he was asking. Nevertheless, she answered, "Yes."


	19. Chapter 19

_So I took your advice and wrote all afternoon... Truly, it's the weekend here now, so this will be it for a few days. Savour it slowly. Just like Elsie! _

Title: This Kiss

"Charles?" Elsie rasped out; her turn to make his name a question.

His capable hands were holding her face, his thumbs tracing along her cheekbones, but he made no move to kiss her again. Her heart skipped in confusion. If he rejected her, she had no idea what she would do, or how she would act. Perversely, if she wasn't wrong, and he wanted to make love to her, she was still in the same predicament of not knowing what to do or how to act.

She should admit to her limited experience. "Charles-"

Her words were cut off when he lowered his face and his lips moved over hers slowly, achingly so, without the slightest hint of urgency.

She swayed towards him. He tilted his head slightly, suckling and chewing on her bottom lip. Just as she felt it swelling in protest, his tongue began sliding along it, soothing it while easing it apart from its mate at the same time. With a sigh, she yielded to his gentle demand and widened her mouth. Immediately, his tongue reached out to stroke across hers in an intimate caress. Instinct and curiosity meant hers met with his willingly, tasting and seeking more.

They had kissed before this. She had even kissed other men before this - Joe, one footman when she was still in her late teens, and shockingly, a shopkeeper in London at the height of the 1892 Season - but nothing had prepared her for _this_ kiss.

Her entire body quivered from the sensation.

She suddenly understood all those maids she'd known who had thrown everything away for their lovers. All the lectures she'd given; all the times she'd explained the birds and the bees; now she knew her efforts were laughable.

She had to tell him. "Please, stop," she gasped.


	20. Chapter 20

_Title: Fall Back_

Charles immediately drew back from their kiss, apologising as he did.

Beside him Elsie, by habit, bit down on her bottom lip, only to visibly wince in pain from the routine action.

He felt a flush of shame suffusing across his skin as she ran her tongue along the swollen flesh of her bottom lip. He didn't know what he was more disgusted by, the fact that he had caused her lip to be in such a ragged state, or the urge that was sweeping through him to place gentle kisses along its length as some kind of perverted penance.

It was apparent he couldn't sleep beside her another night.

The last couple of nights had been a wonderful dream, but her pushing on his chest and saying 'stop' meant it was time to wake up.

"Rest assured, you're not to blame for anything that just happened, Mrs Hughes."

"Mrs Carson," she whispered the correction for him.

He nodded jerkily, and gathered up some bedding to spend the night in the sitting room. He knew why he'd used her maiden name. Elsie Carson would always now be the woman he'd had in his bed, if only for a few days...And kissed, if only for a few minutes.

"In the morning I'll arrange to go and stay in another cottage. There are two vacant, Lord Grantham said. He made the offer for your sister to stay in one."

"So we never had to share a bed in the first place? There was always another place for Morag on the estate?"

"Yes, I lied," he confirmed. It was time she knew what kind of blackguard she was married to. "I deliberately avoided telling you about it, because I wanted you in my bed."

She remained silent as he left the bedroom.


	21. Chapter 21

_Title: Sensory Experience_

Elsie woke to the rhythmic sound of chopping wood. Surprisingly, despite the throb in her head and behind her eyes due to lack of sleep, she found some measure of comfort from listening to the axe splitting the wood at regular intervals. Perhaps it was the familiarity of it, or perhaps she was just grateful that it was proof Charles hadn't yet gone anywhere.

She threw off the covers and sat up; sooner or later she'd have to face Charles. She could hardly hide away in their room forever. Or was this now going to be her room? The very idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, she entered the kitchen, but stopped short when she saw a battered brown suitcase leaning against its far wall.

At that same moment Charles walked into the kitchen from the garden, his face slightly red from exertion. He avoided her gaze, looking down at his hands as he wiped them clean on a towel instead.

Her own gaze drifted to the as-yet-empty suitcase again. "I don't want you to move out."

"I must."

She felt her temper flare at his unyielding attitude.

"I can no longer promise your virtue will be safe if I stay," he added.

"And who said I was virtuous, Mr Carson," she snapped. Why was it so difficult to believe she may have had a lover once, even if it wasn't true. "Have I been so without charm all these years?" she demanded testily.

He looked up and stared at her then, a puzzled frown marring his features.

"What did you plan on doing with me once I was in your bed?" she went on angrily. "When did you first plan to kiss me?"

Her irrational tirade was cut off by his unexpected answer. "1905."


	22. Chapter 22

_Title: A Moment of Domesticity_

"1905? The year I returned to Downton?"

Charles had been rash to make such an admission, he knew. Only he'd been so perturbed by the idea of her not being completely chaste.

"You never treated me with anything but the utmost respect," she murmured.

"Of course not. Housekeepers of your calibre are rare indeed."

"Yes, of course," she bit out. "You'd regard an obedient housekeeper more highly than a woman you'd wish to kiss."

He squared his shoulders, wounded that she should take his compliment and twist it in such a manner. "I thought you enjoyed your position in the house. You were efficient and fair and supported me and my position with grace and without fuss."

"And now that I'm creating fuss, you think it best you pack a bag and leave?"

"You are altering the meaning of my words unfairly," he accused.

Then, it suddenly occurred to him that his argument for leaving the cottage was no longer a valid one if she had indeed known a man before him. This idea both pleased and angered him equally. The large hand of jealousy was closing its fist around his heart and squeezing tight.

"The red-faced man," he muttered, only now remembering the farmer she'd stepped out with at the fair a few years ago.

"Joe. His name was Joe Burns," she clipped out, her accent heightened in her irritated state.

"He was obviously a man without morals," he declared solemnly.

"He most certainly was not," she almost shouted.

"To take a woman such as yourself into his bed before he asked for your hand-"

"He did ask me to marry him."

"What's this? Marital bliss?" Neither Charles nor Elsie uttered these words.

He swung around and stared at the interloper standing in the kitchen doorway who had.

"Morag."


	23. Chapter 23

**This part seems like a bit of a filler and an excuse to tease Charles. Sorry.**

_Title: Family Connections_

Elsie stared at the woman standing in the doorway. She was all so familiar and all so distant at the same time.

"You're early," Elsie said sharply, not at all sure if she'd meant the two words to come out as a question or an accusation.

"Yes, yes. I almost abandoned poor Annie. I do hope she finds it in her heart to forgive me, but I'm afraid I could not suffer Neville for another day."

Elsie blinked, her brain struggling to keep up with who was who in Morag's extended family. Annie was Morag's husband's second cousin; Neville was Annie's son?

"The bus-"

"I didn't catch the bus," Morag told them. "Lady Mary was on the train and we came in her car-"

"With Lady Mary?" Charles burst out.

"Yes. We have quite a lot in common and-"

"With Lady Mary? I most certainly doubt that."

Morag's eyes rolled in the exact same manner as Elsie knew hers surely were. When she thought about it, Lady Mary and Morag were quite alike.

"You're not going away just as I'm arriving, are you?" Morag enquired with a nod towards the suitcase still leaning against the far wall.

"I just took the opportunity to do a little cleaning up for your arrival, and Charles is going to put that up in the storage cupboard for me." Elsie distracted herself with making tea and didn't wonder about her ability to lie so easily.

"You cleaned the spare room? Good. Charles, I sincerely hope you're going to offer to stay in there for the duration of my visit. Elsie and I shall share a bed. I'm much too old to be cramped up in a small bed."

Elsie didn't immediately protest against this demand. She was too busy enjoying Charles's look of dismay.


	24. Chapter 24

Title: Till Death Do Us Part

Charles plunged his hand into the bucket of water, letting the cool liquid soothe the gash between his thumb and finger. In future he'd need to remember not to think about his wife whilst using any type of tool with a blade.

He drew his hand out of the water and patted it dry with a towel before wrapping it tightly in a piece of clean rag.

He should admit to himself that not only was he becoming clumsy in his dotage, he was also becoming contrary. He'd gone from adamant he should move out of their cottage; to wavering after Elsie's revelations about her past; to now determined to stay put.

Should that be in the spare bed, then so be it, he thought mulishly.

When he'd considered moving to the other cottage, he hadn't stopped to think about the shame he'd be bestowing upon Elsie by making such a decision.

He'd spent most of his life worrying about appearances. It shocked him that he was behaving selfishly and he hadn't thought about the consequences to her reputation. He would never want her to be embarrassed by his actions.

He now saw her excuse for the suitcase, and the way she'd skirted around certain subjects in front of Morag, as proof she'd be upset if their marriage was to end. As would he.

After lunch he'd made to retreat to the garden, as politely as possible, to give Elsie and Morag some privacy. Only Elsie had followed him to the doorway where, to his complete surprise, she'd smiled and squeezed his arm before saying the words that had been still swirling around in his mind when he'd cut himself.

He flexed his bandaged hand, and despite its dull ache, he smiled.

"For better or worse," she'd said.


	25. Chapter 25

_A new part to celebrate Ellie's birthday._

_Title: Two's Company_

"Hold still," Elsie ordered, squeezing out a flannel.

"All this to-do and bother isn't necessary," he said in a gruff tone.

"That piece of rag was bloodsoaked," she reprimanded.

When Charles had come inside before tea, Elsie's attention had been instantly drawn to his bandaged hand. She'd bustled around immediately, preparing a mixture of alcohol and warm water to clean the cut.

Now, with her cradling his hand in her much smaller and softer one, he felt quite lightheaded. A feeling which had nothing to do with blood loss.

Her touch was gentle, yet sure and efficient. Disconcertingly, tears gathered in his eyes as she wiped the cloth across the jagged red wound.

Gratitude, he decided, was all he was feeling. He was merely thankful she still cared enough about him to make a fuss.

"Whatever were you thinking," she murmured.

She laughed quietly. "Probably something about Morag."

"Where is your sister?" he asked, peering out into the sitting room. Later, he would think it was amusing that he hadn't noticed Morag's absence until this point.

"Cribbs is showing her a spare cottage," Elsie said, still focussed on administering her treatment.

"How did you manage-"

"I mentioned that you didn't approve of her taking advantage of the Crawleys in such a fashion."

"I...What?" he spluttered.

"She also didn't take kindly to the fact that you thought a woman of her class being accommodated in an entire cottage by herself was improper."

"And..She thought it best to put me in my place?" he asked carefully. "By doing exactly what I didn't want her to do?"

"So it would seem," she confirmed.

She looked up then, her eyes sparkling. He broke her gaze and slowly lowered his to her lips.

"So, it will just be you and I again tonight."


	26. Chapter 26

Title: Sensible Sensitivity

"Did you ever want to kiss me?" Charles quietly asked as Elsie continued to wrap the wound on his hand.

"Before we were married," he elaborated.

She tied the ends of the bandage together with a jerk. "Not in 1905," she replied sourly.

"1906?" he asked with a chuckle, proving he wasn't the least bit intimidated by her temper.

"Do you want me to move back into the second bedroom?"

He visibly tensed. "Do you want to?"

"For the last few months, I've never felt so alone," she finished with a wan smile.

She met his gaze then, and saw her own sadness mirrored in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured. "I thought I should be sensible."

"Yes, sensible," she repeated bitterly, standing and crossing the kitchen to stare out the window over the sink.

"I know most people think I'm a joke," he continued to her stiff back, "but there was a time in my life when I wasn't sensible, and it brought me no happiness. And each time I've deviated from sensible ever since, things have not turned out well."

"So, sensibly, you married your friend the housekeeper," she remarked with more than a trace of sarcasm.

"At my age-"

She swung around. "I didn't ask to be your one great passion. I know we're at the age that not everything works as it should-"

"I think you'll find I can still now and then rise for the occasion," he spluttered. He stood and approached her.

"Yet surely you know there are other things I can do."

She gripped the sink behind her.

"With my hands..."

She closed her eyes.

Suddenly his mouth was close to her ear, his hands loosely resting on her hips.

"With my mouth..."

"No, I don't know," she confessed with a shiver.


	27. Chapter 27

**For Ms Anon. You can stop tapping for a couple of hours at least. :)**

_Title: Another Time, Another Place_

As Elsie slowly hung the tea towel on the rack above the stove, she realised she could not linger in the kitchen any longer. She'd already drank two cups of tea since dinner. If she had any more before Charles returned from escorting Morag to the other cottage she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

She snorted at the absurdity.

Charles's fingers had bit into her hips tighter after her confession this afternoon.

"I made some allegations," he'd said.

"Yes. I would think you'd know me better. Just because you were in charge for years, doesn't mean..."

She'd lost her train of thought; Charles's hands had somehow crept around to gently cup her bottom.

"You're not going to insist on still being sensible, are you?" she'd breathed.

His only answer had been to lean down and kiss the corner of her mouth.

"The most sensible thing would be for you to be my first, Charles," she'd babbled on. "Sometimes I feel like we've been married forever instead of nearly a year and-"

He'd effectively silenced her chatter at this point by kissing her fully on the lips. But just as she'd been thinking of parting her lips in response, he'd drawn back.

"There's a time and place for such things, Elsie Carson, and in the kitchen, with your sister and Cribbs due back at any moment, is not it."

She smiled now, thinking of the pseudo correct voice he'd used. She was glad they were again learning to laugh with each other.

She wandered through the sitting room and hesitated at the doorways of the bedrooms only for the briefest of moments. Stepping through to the main one, she quickly changed from her day clothes into her nightgown and slipped beneath the covers of the large double bed to wait.


	28. Chapter 28

_Title: Undulation_

Despite the fact Charles had splashed cool water onto his face as soon as he'd arrived back at the cottage, he still felt faint.

He assumed Elsie was already in bed, hopefully not having second thoughts.

She'd never been with a man before. He couldn't just give into his primal urge and burst into their bedroom to take her as hard and as fast as...

He groaned and bent his head over the kitchen sink.

She'd trust him to be patient, gentle, slow... He'd imagined her slowly rising and falling above him more than once...

He had to remember her inexperience. She wouldn't immediately know what positions he liked. He'd have to show her...

"Charles?"

He swung around. Elsie stood in the doorway, wearing her white nightdress, its ties struggling to remain knotted across her chest.

That would be the first thing he'd do, he decided, hold her breasts in his hands, feel their weight, stroke their pale fullness, draw each hardened tip into his mouth and...

"Charles?" Elsie stepped closer and placed her hand on his forehead. "Are you unwell?"

Taking a steadying breath, he reached up and grasped her wrist. Then, he manoeuvred her hand and tilted his head to kiss her palm.

"I'm nervous," he admitted.

"You've done this before." Her voice was as ragged as his.

"Never with my wife."

"That makes a difference?"

"Of course," he insisted. "My wife is the woman I've chosen to love above all others. I don't want it to be so unappealing that she should never want to do it again."

Trembling, she threaded her fingers through his short hair and tugged his head downwards. At the same time she lifted herself onto tiptoes.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His mouth found hers and they shared a sweet kiss.


	29. Chapter 29

**Cottageverse, with a change of rating!, in time for Downton!Day!**

_Title: A Different Point of View_

When Elsie was young and first went into service, she'd found craning her neck to talk to men disconcerting. Why did all butlers and footmen have to be so tall, she'd lament, not feeling any more statuesque even when she was wearing boots. But, all these years later, her and Charles's height difference was the norm. It had become part of her life.

So now, as she gazed _down _at Charles, positioned low in the bed, his mouth wrapped around one of her breasts, it was all so new - but exhilarating.

A knot of pleasurable tension had settled deep in her stomach as he'd began to suckle each nipple in turn. She gasped every time he drew back and lapped his tongue across one of the pink nubs.

She was surprised by how much her body was aching. Her nipples were tight and throbbing from his attention, the area between her legs was burning with anticipation. Yet, she willed the pain to never end.

Suddenly he raised his head, causing her a moment of panic. She calmed when she saw the look of contentment on his face.

"Charles," she rasped and reached out to sweep his hair out of his eyes. His name was the only word she'd been able to utter since he'd broken their kiss in the kitchen and deftly escorted her to the bedroom where he'd removed their clothes with minimum fuss.

He bent his head and kissed her closer to her navel. Yet again, Charles at this angle was such a novelty it elicited a shiver.

He gently brushed her thighs slightly apart with the back of his hand and she trembled even more.

She jerked with surprise when he nuzzled at her opening.

"Charles?"

"You need to be ready," he murmured. "Trust me."

She did.


	30. Chapter 30

**Title: Aftershock**

From just outside the door, Charles silently watched Elsie.

She was smiling.

He'd risen and dressed ready to start his chores when she'd woken this morning. "I need to get your breakfast," she'd mumbled sleepily, struggling to sit.

He'd pressed her down onto the mattress and kissed her soundly.

"Stay here," he'd quietly ordered against her lips. "You deserve a rest," he'd teased.

She'd smiled then, and for the first time in a long time he'd wished to be a younger man; carefree enough, and capable of, staying in bed with his wife for the whole day.

Now, as she spoke to Morag, who was sitting at the kitchen table, her smile hadn't faded.

He opened the door then, only to pause when Elsie moved to take Morag's hand. He didn't want to interrupt the siblings. She soon looked up and saw him hovering, however.

"Good morning, Mr Carson," she greeted him, almost like old times and yet...not.

She was even wearing one of her old housekeeping dresses; its hem altered to keep up with the current trend, lace added to the cuffs to hide the frayed stitching there. His attention was drawn to just above her left breast, where the brooch he'd given to her on their wedding day was pinned.

"Good morning, Mrs Carson," he said.

She gave Morag's hand one last squeeze before slowly letting it drop.

Next, with her hand now resting on the brooch, she took a step closer to him. For one beautiful but frightening moment, he thought she was going to kiss him... And thus Morag would witness his complete adoration.

Instead, she smiled again and with a jolt he realised it was her love on show.

Could it be true? Could Elsie Carson, nee Hughes, truly be in love with him?


	31. Chapter 31

**I suppose episode 3.3 has made Cottageverse completely A/U! Not that I mind... It's also become completely romantic! That part's my fault...**

_Title: Petty Hearts_

"Everything is all right between you and your sister?" Charles asked.

They were sharing a cup of tea in the sitting room. Morag had returned to the other cottage for the evening.

"It seems, all this time, we've both been jealous of each other's lives," Elsie confessed.

"You would have liked to stay on your family's farm?" he supposed.

"No. My father was..." She flashed him a shy smile. "I think, even from an early age, I wasn't suited to taking orders."

"Yet you went into service. You had to take orders from the family you worked for. _And _the butler," he added.

"There are ways to make the family, _and_ the butler, completely believe _they're_giving orders."

He chuckled, and she went on quietly: "Morag married, had children. Sometimes, I would consider the eligible footmen in the house...and wonder."

"I think you could do better than a footman," he insisted gruffly.

"Meanwhile, I had the one thing she didn't - independence. I left the farm, made an income of my own, spent it as I wished. And then, you had to go and make things worse."

"Me?" he asked, confused.

Elsie carefully put her cup to one side and moved closer to him on the settee.

"Yes. You married me."

"But why would that make her jealous? She'd been married."

"Duncan wasn't a bad husband but..." She shrugged. "Like others, she thought we were marrying for companionship. She says it was a shock when she saw us together at the wedding."

"A shock?" he murmured, trying to stay focussed on their conversation whilst wondering if she'd mind if he kissed her.

"She said we looked so in love."

He forgot kissing when she posed her next question. "You do love me, don't you, Charles?"

He was suddenly very angry.


	32. Chapter 32

_Title: Truly, Madly, Deeply_

"What sort of ridiculous question is that?" Charles demanded, leaping from his seat. "Has my bedding you caused all your good sense to evaporate?"

"I just-"

"You're just going to turn into some sort of simpering...woman."

The corners of Elsie's mouth twitched. "Last time I looked, I am a woman, Charles."

"Last time I looked, you were _definitely_a woman, but-" He broke off, his entire face reddening, up to the tips of his ears, at his apparent suggestiveness.

She stood and moved as close to him as she could without touching, smiling at how his breathing became heavy and laboured with her proximity.

"But you've never simpered," he finished, his gaze lowering.

Unusually, she didn't feel her temper rising at all. She was going to channel all that emotion she normally used to argue with Charles into another type of passion?

"I'm sorry. I should have realised that a man couldn't be as considerate and kind to a woman as you last night without being in love," she conceded quietly. "You treated me with such reverence and patience that I've spent the entire day walking on air."

If anything, his face reddened even more.

"My love was at first borne from lust," he confessed. "Then, I came to love you like a friend. I married you because I loved you enough to be satisfied with your companionship. Last night was wonderful and I loved every moment. But know none of these loves were, or are, stronger than any of the others."

He reached down and lightly massaged her shoulders.

"I've always just loved you. I can't remember a time since we met when I didn't."

His lips found hers.

"There, if that is enough of a declaration for you, I think we should retire for the evening."

"Yes."


	33. Chapter 33

_Title: All We Need_

Charles had turned off the room's electric light, but a lantern still emitted a soft intimate glow from the dresser.

"Are you..." He hesitated. "Still indisposed?"

It took her a moment to realise what he was asking. Once she did, she gave him a tender smile. "It was only a small amount of blood," she confessed with less embarrassment than was probably proper. "One advantage of my age, I should think."

"I don't need to know more details," he blustered.

"You asked," she laughed.

His fingers tangled around her nightgown's tie until it loosened and he was able to brush his knuckles across the pale skin he'd revealed. "We won't always have everything like last night."

She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. She remembered when she'd acknowledged their ages and thought she'd be happy with just the barest of physical touches from Charles. But now...

She changed the subject, before he thought less of her. "You never asked me for a declaration."

"No."

He tugged her nightgown over her head with an impatient grunt.

"You don't want me to tell you how much I love you?" Her words tumbled out in a rush.

"You don't need to. I've known for a long time. I was just too obtuse to acknowledge it."

She admitted she'd lost track of the entire conversation. His fault; his hands and mouth were finding so many new places to touch and caress.

"You would never allow a man to share your bed if you didn't love him."

"You can't know-" she started stubbornly, but then he'd elicited a moan. He was kissing _that_spot.

"Yes, I can, Mrs Carson," he declared confidently. "I've never been surer of anything."

She grasped his hand and drew it to her mouth, kissing his palm. "Yes, you can."

~The End~

**E/N Yes, you read that right. This is the end. Romantic, secksy times, the end. :) Thanks for your kind reviews (I'll catch up soon with replies, promise!) and making me so welcome on fanficnet. Big thanks to those I can't reply to (ie those crazy guests!).**


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